Meowing For Justice
by starlit skyes
Summary: When Draco is turned into a kitten thanks to Goyle's stupidity, it is ironic that in spite of the efforts of Professor Snape and Goyle himself, his fate lies in the soft, small hands of Ginny Weasley - that is, when those hands aren't busy bathing him.


**A/N: **This was my entry to **The DG Forum Fic Exchange – Summer 09**. I wrote it for **Kim's #2 Prompt**, which was this:

**Basic outline: **Goyle is practising his spells and accidentally transforms Draco Malfoy into a kitten. Too stupid to solve the problem himself, and with Draco quite incapable of changing back with only furry paws and the ability to say "Meow" to help him, Goyle runs off to Snape to remedy his mistake. Ginny discovers the kitten and, in true Weasley fashion, takes the indignant animal/boy under her wing.

**Must haves:** Lots of humour. Draco trying to escape his 'friendly benefactor'. Ginny giving kitten!Draco a bath.

**No-no's: **No character deaths, no angst, and no OOC characters. Even if this is leaning towards a crack!fic, I still want everyone to resemble their canon counterparts as much as possible. Again, I would prefer if the language is kept 'clean'.

**Rating range:** No higher than T.

**Bonus points: **If Goyle and Snape go 'kitten hunting'.

I got the **Best Use of Side Characters** award for this one! And I _nearly_ won **Best One-shot** and **Most Humorous**. I'm very smug about that. :P

* * *

"Nooo..." Goyle protested in a prolonged grunt, seating himself comfortably at the couch. "No, I want to sleep, Malfoy. Or eat! I don't _want_ to study!"

He glowered dimly at the silver-haired boy in front of him.

Draco looked at him warningly, raising his fair eyebrows.

"Don't wanna," Goyle mumbled again. "I'm hungry, Draco. And this is the Christmas holidays! I _only_ sleep and eat this time of year! And work out, of course, to keep my sexy body in shape..."

"No," Draco corrected through his teeth, preferring to ignore that last statement, "no, you listen to me now, Goyle." He bent down low, glaring into the wide, fleshy face of his minion. "You work on your magic, _now._ Convince me you're not a gorrilla with a stomach substituting a brain."

Goyle crossed his tree-trunk arms around his chest. "Why?" demanded he sulkily.

"_Why?"_ repeated Draco in disbelief. "Why, Goyle? Because your intellect rather resembles that of a four year old, and I would _prefer_ if it were not so!" He straightened up, and primly checked his fingernails in satisfaction. "Oh, and also, you're becoming a bit of an embarrassment to me."

"Oh, yeah?" growled Goyle. "And how is that, Malfoy?"

"See," Draco explained, "people think that I only keep you around, because you're too dumb to actually oppose me in any way. That I don't actually have intellectual company. Same with Crabbe, but as he's gone off home, you're my first target." Draco frowned thoughtfully. "Practicing your spells is the first thing. So tomorrow, in Transfiguration, you surprise everyone and beat that Granger to the right answer. Get it?"

Goyle nodded fervently. "Oh, okay. So I've got to do it well tomorrow." But then a frown creased his fleshy brow. "So why do I have to do it today? Transfiguration is over, ain't it?"

Draco let out a drawn out sound of exasperation. "Goyle," he said in a tightly controlled voice, narrowing his eyes to slits. "Which spell, pray tell, can you actually do?"

Goyle furrowed his brow in intense concentration. "Uh," he grunted. "I can't remember..."

"Which is _exactly_ my point," Draco finished. "So, get on with it." He whipped out his Transfiguration book, and opened the page to 'Transfiguring into Animals'.

"Right," he said. "This one here – turn that pouffe into a kitten. It's a very important spell."

Goyle stared into the book, as if there were a chocolate cake embedded in it. "Okay," he said finally.

He took out his wand, pointing it at the pouffe near Draco, and then opened his mouth to say the incantation. Then he snapped his mouth shut again, looking extremely confused.

"What happened now?" Draco snapped irritably.

"Forgot the spell," Goyle grunted, staring into the book again. "Okay, now I got it."

He jerked his wand in the general direction of the pouffe, and muttered, "_Morphe felesio!_"

Then he stared back at the book, wand still dangling from his ham-like hands lamely. "Got it right," he mumbled to himself.

Suddenly, he heard a high-pitched sound. "_Meow!_" He looked down, and there sat a small kitten, with snow white fur, and large grey eyes. _"Meow,"_ it said again petulantly, it's long tail waving haughtily.

Goyle's eyes grew round. "It actually worked!" he exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "I transfigured something! Look at that, Draco!"

The kitten snarled at him.

"Draco?"

The kitten leapt on to his leg, and clawed at it viciously.

"Oh, you stupid cat! Gerroff!" he shook it off, and kitten jumped off his leg, spitting angrily. "Now where is Draco...?"

He looked around himself closely. There was the pouffe he was supposed to be transfigruing – and he had actually done it, how very brilliant of him, look at that kitten, it was _perfect_ – but the pouffe was still there...how strange...

Goyle's mouth dropped open, his jaw almost hitting the ground. He stared at the kitten as it if were a ghost. "D-Draco?" he spluttered. "You're a...a _kitten?_"

The kitten's eyes flashed, and it gave him a last, enraged screech, before bounding off.

"Shit," Goyle muttered, standing up. "I have to find that kitten – I mean, I have to find Draco." He swallowed. "Who's become a kitten."

* * *

Draco ran desperately out of the Slytherin Common Room, his tiny heart racing, his nimble paws blurring with speed. He let out a range of spits and snarls, that were incredible swear words, he realized, in kitten-tongue.

He wanted to murder Goyle. He knew what he'd do – he'd mince Goyle, and add it with his cat food, and then he'd lick him off, every piece of him. That's what he'd do.

_Wait,_ Draco thought in horror. _Cat food? This is not happening to me. Being a ferret was enough...No, this is not happening._

He couldn't trust Goyle to transfigure him back – who knew what he'd do next? Turn him into a mouse?

_Mouse,_ another part of his brain thought longingly, _a nice, plump mouse...Yummy..._

Draco scratched his face in anger. Oh, no, oh no, oh no...He couldn't be a kitten. This couldn't be happening.

Suddenly, he spotted Professor McGonagall striding across the hall, her cloak flying about her, seeming in a hurry.

_Aha!_ Draco thought hopefully. _The Transfiguration professor...Maybe she can help me._

He bound up to her, stopping right at her feet, and looked up at her beseechingly. "_Meow,"_ he said pleadingly. _"Please. I'm Draco. I don't want to be a kitten."_

Of course, what came out was a dazzling range of 'meow's in different pitches, but seeing as how McGonagall turned into a cat, he hoped she'd understand.

His hope was unheeded, and in vain.

She stared down at him, seeming startled. Draco's tail swayed, and he let out another pitiful meow.

And then, McGonagall's face spread into a wide, affectionate smile, her hard eyes softening. "How...how _cute,"_ she said softly.

Draco bristled. _Cute? He? Son of Lucius Malfoy?_

"_Meow!"_ he said angrily.

McGonagall bent down, and patted him tenderly on his satin-smooth head. Draco cringed from her long, boney fingers. "Well," McGonagall said in a breathless voice, still staring adoringly at him. "I'd best be on my way to class," she said briskly, sounding more like her usual class. And then she added, "You go along, my dear!" She started to walk forward. "Sweet little thing, don't get in trouble!"

She flounced away, seeming a little flustered, and Draco stared after her in shock.

_Sweet little thing._

"_Meaooowwww,"_ he said desolately. Who knew Minerva McGonagall had such a weakness for kittens?

Feeling so mad he thought he'd tear every thing to pieces with his little claws, Draco pranced away, hoping for someone else to come along who'd help him.

Also, he was beginning to feel hungry. Where were all the Hogwarts mice when he needed them?

* * *

Goyle was in distress. He wrung his stubby hands, wishing desperately for a nice eclair to calm him down. He'd turned his best mate into a kitten! He strode towards the staff rooms, in search of Professor Snape, who might help him. Snape liked Draco, after all.

Goyle entered the staff room, and immediately spotted Snape at a distance, looking seriously into a folder, his silky hair forming two black curtains around his face.

As Goyle approached him, he saw Professor Snape doing something very strange, indeed.

Snape suddenly looked up at him, startled. "Goyle?" he snapped. "What are you doing here?"

"Why were you kissing that parchment?" Goyle asked curiously. He looked at Snape's desk, noticing the name on the homework – 'Hermione Granger' was written in a pretty, precise print.

Snape scowled at him. "Kissing the parchment?" he said, enraged, his sallow cheeks glowing pink. "I was – I was merely sniffing the parchment for – for traces of Self Correctional ink!"

But Goyle was now distracted, and he was staring at the pastry and cup of tea on Snape's desk. Snape noticed his gaze, and irritably removed the food, keeping it in the drawer. "So what did you come here for, may I ask?" Snape looked at Goyle in what looked like slight disgust.

"I turned Draco into a kitten," Goyle grunted without preamble. "And now I can't find him."

Snape's lips curved into a small, derisive smirk. "Practicing spells, were you? Well, it's all for the better," said Snape, his smirk growing into a grin, "this way, for once, Draco can be obnoxious and he will still be considered adorable."

Goyle blinked. "You're right!" he said in surprise.

"Wait, are you serious, Goyle?" Snape said suddenly. "You actually turned Mr. Malfoy into a...a _kitten?_"

"Um, yeah," said Goyle absently, still pondering the idea of Draco's drastic increase in popularity.

Snape stood up suddenly, casting away the homework carefully. "Well, then," he said briskly, "we must find him!"

"But – but you just said –" Goyle began in confusion.

"Oh, shut up, you dunderhead," Snappe snapped in irritation. "Come, let's see what must be done."

He clasped Goyle by the arm – quite a feat, seeing as it was as thick as an elephant's trunk – and shoved him out of the staff room.

"Now where did he go?" demanded Snape, once reaching the outside of the Slytherin common room.

Goyle looked around. "There," he said confidently, pointing a stubby finger to the way on the left. "Wait," he grunted, "Or there!" he pointed the finger to the right hallway. The he gazed up at the ceiling, looking thoughtful. "Or...I think it was...it might've been _there!_" he pointed at the hallway behind him, with an air of someone who'd just discovered that the earth was round. He grinned at Snape in triumph.

Snape's nostrils flared, his eyes flashing. "Keep quiet," he snapped at Goyle. "Now..." he stared around, "I think he would have gone toward the Great Hall – the hallway right in front us, that is."

Goyle clapped his hands together enthusiastically. "Yeah!" he exlaimed, "on a hunt to find the kitten! I mean, to find Draco!"

* * *

Draco was wandering the halls, still letting out little mews of distress. Most of the people he came across either gushed over his cuteness (if he would ever escape the impropriety, the _shame!_), or tried to kick him away, or simply ignored him.

He'd never been treated like this in his life – like he wasn't even _human!_

But at his nose suddenly detected the scent of fish wafting in from the Great Hall, he was reminded that he wasn't, after all, a human.

He, Draco Malfoy, was a cat. All he could say was _meow,_ and he was utterly helpless.

And he wanted cat food.

Suddenly, from the hallway to his right, he head a great babble of voices. He pricked his little ears – the voices sounded young. He sniffed the air disdainfully – no mice or fish here, either.

As his large gray eyes took in the crowd, he realized that this was the fourth year class – of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.

He noticed a head of vibrant red hair in front, surrounded by people. Ginevra Weasley – he'd had his eye on her for a bit, now... She seemed to think she was superior to his various charms in some way, and he'd been out to prove her wrong...

He approached the crowd, still mewling desperately, and wondering if any of the people in these two infernal houses would be clever enough to realize that he was Draco. After all, he had such a distinguishable personality, it ought to be perfectly clear to even an idiot that he was Draco, whether he was in human form or adorable-kitten form.

The crowd passed him by as if he were a part of the furniture, and he stared after them in utmost annoyance. But then a clear voice interrupted the mental murder he was committing.

"Oh my _gosh!_ You are _so __pretty__!_"

He stared distrustingly at the redhead Weaslette, who had apparently stopped to gawk at him. And call him _pretty!_ Of all the nerve...Just wait when he got back to normal, then he'd single-handedly claw all those people – no, _duel_ all those people to _painful death..._

He glared at her, and she beamed delightedly at him, and was approaching him warily, hands outstretched.

"Come, kitty, kitty, kitty," crooned Ginny, waggling her fingers. "Come here, you poor, abandoned _darling..."_

She couldn't believe a kitten could be so cute. It's fur looked so silky, silvery white! Those tiny, soft-looking ears! Those large, bright gray eyes!

She was in love.

Draco peered cautiously at the girl's pink-white hands, steadily approaching him closer and closer. Running away would do no good – he'd spend the rest of his life as a cat hermit.

He'd always suspected the Weasley girl had some brains. Perhaps he could convince her that he was Draco Malfoy. Scratch the message on her arms, perhaps...

And maybe, just maybe, she would feed him! It didn't seem likely she had a large supply of mice, but she _might_ have some nice, raw, sweet-smelling fish...

He didn't move an inch, still staring at her warily, and then her hands clamped on to himself, and he was lifted into the air, cradled against her chest.

Draco meowed in alarm, an immediate instinct to scratch her arms so she'd drop him. And another part of him was musing curiously, hugged close as he was to her warm, soft body. He could feel the curves of her breasts just against his back. He resisted the urge to lick her creamy white neck.

Ginny was looking down at him adoringly. "Oh, my, you are adorable," she whispered.

This was the thirteenth time someone had called him that! He twitched his nose in dislike. _Keep that mouth closed unless I want you to open it, Weasley!_

"Come, little kitty!" cried Ginny. "Let's go to my common room!"

_As if I'd set one foot in there in any of my lives on earth..._

And then he realized that she, Ginny Weasley, was right now his only hope. He had to tolerate this...this infamy.

Draco stiffly seated himself at the crook of her arms, keeping his nose in the air and summoning all the rest of his Malfoy dignity. Let her take him to that – that place – that Gryffindor common room. If she realized who was and turned him back, it would be worth it.

_If_ she realized it – before it was too late.

Life was grim right now, all right.

* * *

Snape and Goyle, (Goyle had been thinking hard, and had come to the conclusion that 'Kitten Hunters' had quite a nice ring to it) were parading the various hallways with great concentration.

Snape was trying not to think about coarse, ink-filled parchment – particularly the one with 'Granger' written on it in the corner – and the soft hand that must have written it...and the softer lips that must have mouthed the work as she wrote. Goyle was trying not to think about the divine prospect of dinner.

"Not here," Snape muttered, reaching the end of another corridor. "My, my, Goyle, what have you done?"

"Eh?" said Goyle absently. "Wait!" He scratched his head. "What did I do now?"

"Never mind," Snape groaned. "Onward, then." Snape whipped out his wand, muttering something under his breath, and the end of it grew blue and pointed toward their right.

"This, Goyle," said Snape in a would-be-calm voice, "is a spell that can come in very handy to utter bozos like you."

"Wait!" said Goyle excitedly. "Let me guess! It'll give me something to eat?"

"No," Snape snapped. "The wand is sensing the presence of Draco's magic – even if he is a cat, there is still magic in him, of course – and telling us in which direction to find him. Understand?"

Goyle stared at Snape. "Sure," he said, convincing no one. "Sure, I understand."

Snape glared at him for one more moment, and then, after muttering under his breath something that sounded like: "Could be looking through that bit of homework..." set off at a fast stride, his cloak whipping around him and his hair swinging into his eyes, into the direction the wand had pointed to. Goyle mutely followed, wondering what the draw was in Hermione Granger's homework parchment – Did it perhaps taste good? _Maybe I should try kissing it too,_ Goyle mused.

They went through three winding hallways, encountering four bustling classes, until they were faced with the portrait of a very fat woman, wearing a shocking pink dress, who fluttered her eyelashes at the Potions professor.

"Erm, Professor?" Goyle asked, confused. "I think your wand went wrong."

Snape glanced at Goyle, a hint of a smirk on his face. "A brilliant explanation, Goyle. The only problem with it is – it's wrong."

Goyle flushed. "Thanks, Professor!"

"Oh, Goyle!" snapped Snape curtly. "How on earth were you placed in _Slytherin?_"

Goyle shrugged, still looking very pleased with himself. "Maybe I should've been in Ravenclaw..."

"This portrait" – Snape gestured with a long, pale finger at the Fat Lady, who was still beaming alluringly at the two of them – "is, in fact, not just a portrait, Goyle. Did you know that?"

"No, Professor."

"This is the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. I presume you didn't know that, either?" murmured Snape mockingly, still looking speculatively at the Fat Lady, who was blushing in delight.

"Do you have the password?" simpered the Fat Lady, finally, unable to keep quiet no more. "I'm assuming you want to...go _in..._" she winked suggestively.

"I am Severus Snape, a teacher," said Snape, drawing himself up to his full height. "I order you to let me in!"

She giggled. "Sorry," she teased, "no password, no entry."

Snape scowled. "Of course not," he muttered. "I helped make that rule."

Goyle prodded him, wanting attention. He asked the thousand galleon question:

"What are you gonna do now, Professor?"

* * *

Ginny, meanwhile, had cuddled Draco to her chest and carried him into the Common Room (which he had found quite cozy, and had immediately wanted to settle down on that nice piece of carpet next to the fire).

"Look at his most adorable kitten!" she announced to the room, where there were few people. Apparently most of the Gryffindors had gone homw for the Christmas holidays, as well. Draco recognized Potter, Granger and Weasley there – the Trio – and Neville Longbottom.

"Cat?" asked Ron in surprise, looking around. "What cat?"

Ginny held Draco out proudly. "Isn't he _beautiful?_"

_Well,_ Draco sniffed,_ at least she hasn't mistaken my gender._

"A CAT!" screamed a small girl who was sitting closest to them. She immediately plugged her nose, and Draco mewed indignantly. "I'm allergic to cats!" she shrieked, and clambered out the Common Room, still plugging her nose with her fingers as though to ward off some fume of a fart bomb.

Draco glared after her sullenly. _Little sissies..._

"Here, let me see," said Hermione Granger eagerly, holding out her hands. Draco stiffened – he had no wish to be held by _those_ hands – and drew out his claws subtly.

Thankfully, Ginny relented. "Oh, no!" she laughed. "I'm not letting go of him." She beamed down fondly at him. "He's going to be _petted_ like never before!"

Draco drew in a sharp breath of horror. _Petting?_ _What's gotten into you, Weasley? Is Potter finally catching?_

"Well, have fun," said Ron Weasley indifferently, going back to the chess board in between him and Potter – who, Draco noted with dislike, hadn't looked up from the board and seemed to be arguing in whispers with a pawn. Hermione was still gazing at him speculatively.

"He reminds me of someone," she mused suddenly. "I can't say who..."

Ginny looked down at him, frowning. "Those gray eyes do look familiar," she admitted. "And there's something about that haughty look around the cutie pie that's just so sweet!"

Draco bared his teeth, he'd had it with people discussing him as if he weren't there. But he was thankful to Granger for putting the idea in Ginny's head – now perhaps she'd realize his true identity. _Turn me back human, Weasley, so I have proper lips. Then I'll show you what exactly is sweet about me._

"Anyway," said Hermione, looking back into her book. "I'll see you later, then, Ginny."

Ginny cuddled him closer, and started climbing up the stairs – to the dormitory.

Draco suddenly felt the deepest sense of foreboding. He waited warily for the the steps, the tension, to end. And finally, he was in her room.

"There you go, little kitty," she murmured, and she placed him on a soft, bouncy bed, with red and gold sheets. She sat by him, and gazed at him, then pulled her slender fingers through his soft fur gently. He found himself shutting his eyes, and purring in content as her finger ran down the small length of his back. She laughed, and picked him up again, placing her hands at the base of his own and lifting him into the air. Her eyes were a curious shade of light brown, almost like honey...He _loved_ honey.

Then her little nose seemed to wrinkle slightly. "My, but you're dirty!" she exclaimed. "To think I allowed you on my _bed,_ kitty-cat!"

Draco blinked. Since when had _he_ been dirty? He was _never_ dirty! He never sweated, and it wasn't like he'd been rolling in gutters.

As Draco involuntarily ran his pink tongue over his little mouth when he glared at her, taking in the soft, rosy shade of her small lips, he decided _that_ was probably debatable. "Me-_ow,_" he said indignantly, pushing away all gutter-worthy thoughts.

Ginny grinned. "Well, I suppose you're not _that_ dirty," amended she, "it's just your white fur shows mud easily, and I daresay you've been loitering the grounds in that pathetic way of yours."

_You need to reboot your vocabulary, _he wanted to tell her._ Pathetic is a word _never_ used for the Malfoy family._

Draco wished so much he could answer her. The things he would say to her then! He ground his teeth together, whiskers twitching.

"But," she continued, and then a truly wicked gleam came into those honey-colored eyes, and she placed him on her lap, keeping him secure with her soft hands so he couldn't move, "I still want to give you a little bath." Her eyes grew dreamy. "I've always wanted to bathe a baby, and I never could..."

Draco was listening to this in horror, and now only one prospect occurred to him – escape. Immediately. Pronto. Before it was too late.

He drew out his claws, swiping blindly, and leapt of her lap with a dramatic screech, preparing to bound down the stares and away from this disaster, but she was much too quick.

"Oh, no, you don't!" cried Ginny, and in a flash she had pounced on him, her fingers tight over his small torso. "I love you, kitty-cat, and I don't plan to let you go." She stood up, glowering at him. "If you don't behave, I might have to smack you."

_A delightful prospect, _Draco thought dryly. _If only I was human right now..._

* * *

Professor Snape and Goyle were standing outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, with expressions similar to those of stranded kittens – quite fitting, considering the situation – whilst the aforementioned overweight lady giggled, occasionally mumbling something about how she liked to see "sensitive, melancholy young fellows".

"Merlin," muttered Snape desperately. "We're never going to be able to get inside unless someone comes out and tells us the password!"

Goyle thought for a moment. If only there was someone to beat up right now, so he could force the password out of them...well, that was out. Only one more option. Goyle took a deep breath, and then bellowed, "SOMEBODY! COME OUT! SOMEBODY! GET OUT OF TH–"

The Fat Lady now looked petrified, as Professor Snape clamped a pale hand over Goyle's mouth. "What on _earth_ is wrong with you?" he hissed. "For Merlin's sake, do me a favor and keep you fat mouth closed, will you?"

Goyle, looking extremely distraught, cracked his knuckles and looked away. Bashing up the Potions Professor was against the rules, he knew.

Just then, the portrait of the Lady swung open – and who was to climb out, but the beloved Miss Granger herself, the one who wrote the splendid (and probably tasty, Goyle thought) homework?

"Miss Granger?" said Professor Snape quickly, his mouth furling into a wide smile. "Oh, thank Merlin."

She looked at them with suspicious brown eyes. "Yes, Professor?"

Snape quickly regained composure. "I believe that Ginevra Weasley entered the room with a kitten, a few minutes ago?"

"Yes..." Hermione looked baffled.

"Well, you see, Goyle here" – Snape made a dismissive, contemptuous gesture at the boy – "royally messed everything up when he turned Draco Malfoy into a kitten, by what I am sure was a mistake." He smirked at Hermione, thinking how soft those eyes of hers were. "I am sure you are intelligent enough to comprehend what I am implying here," he continued, hoping she would get the veiled compliment.

Hermione's eyes were as round as coins. "You mean – you mean that adorable kitten is – is _Malfoy?_"

Snape snorted softly. "Yes, that happens to be exactly what I mean. So, please, tell us the password, and we will go get...Draco."

"Even if I do, you won't be able to go up there, it's the girls' dorm," reminded Hermione absently. "Wait here, I'll go get it – Malfoy – from Ginny."

"That would be a good idea," said Snape wryly. Hermione 'said, and vanished'...She was making Professor Snape quite poetic. Ah, how he wished he didn't have to contend himself with just her homework...

"She'll go get him, won't she?" whined Goyle, who by now had lost all worry for Draco. "I wish we could head back to your staff room...I remember there was some of that pastry left..."

"Twenty-five points from Slytherin, then," said Snape softly. "Please, go ahead, Goyle. I'll take care of it from here."

"Oh, all right," grumbled Goyle, turning back, "I'll wait for tea, then."

* * *

Draco had to escape. He _needed_ to escape. He must escape. Oh, he _had_ to...

Ginny was now holding him firmly in her arms as she strode around, looking for – _gulp – _towels and soap. Draco tried to relieve himself on the fact that at least she wasn't looking for cat soap, which might inflame his delicate skin, but it was an uphill task.

He thought of how he'd tried to get away, again. He'd streaked out of the bed, down the dormitory, so fast that she was shocked – he was, after all, a cat – and hidden under the little chair by the portrait, waiting for someone to come by and open it for him when they went out, heart pounding and hoping she wouldn't find him. But before his wait could bear fruit, he'd sudden seen a shadow outside the chair, and then a load of scarlet hair, quickly followed by a pretty face with light brown eyes, that were beaming with disapproval. "Bad kitty," she had said sternly, before extending those hands to pick him up again.

"We'll get you all soaped up, and squeaky clean," she was gushing now, "and then we'll doll you up...pretty ribbons and bows..."

_You're so dumb you're confusing me with a barbie doll, Weasley, _Draco snarled. How _dare_ she? He wriggled viciously in her grasp, but my...she was stronger than he would have given her credit for.

Finally, she entered her bathroom, and Draco was frozen with shock as she filled up a little baby blue tub with water from the faucet. She locked the bathroom door behind her, and then turned to beam at him, and suddenly he was reminded of Annie Wilkes from Stephen King's _Misery._ The whole thing had an ironic, hideous sense of terror about it – the baby blue tub, the soap, the fluffy white towel, the striking shade of her hair...

But suddenly, there was a voice.

"Ginny? Ginny! Where are you?"

_Granger,_ Draco recognized.

"I'm the bathroom!" Ginny called. "I'm giving this cutie pie a little bath!"

There was a banging on the door. "Ginny – come out _right_ now – I need to tell you something. Now!"

Ginny stared at him, surprised. "Well, I'd better see what's up," she muttered to him, and quickly went out the bathroom and locked it.

Draco strained his ears to hear what they were talking about, but he couldn't seem to hear. He decided it wasn't worth his concern, anyway. It was probably some trivial girlie matter...perhaps Granger had broken up with her boyfriend. Or perhaps Granger was admonishing Ginny for not doing a bit of homework. Draco snorted delicately through his small, pink nose.

He now heard Ginny's voice raised in exclamation...but he couldn't seem to hear what she was saying...

And then, finally, she opened the bathroom door, and Draco considered darting out in between her legs, but by then the bathroom door had closed.

Ginny was looking down at him, her face expressionless. He stared up at her questioningly. And then he noticed...noticed a wicked, wicked glint in those golden-brown eyes. A glint that actually could _scare_ him.

"Well, kitty-cat," she said in a light voice. "We must continue with bathing you, mustn't we?"

_Damn you to hell, twice! _Draco raged. _I don't need to bathed by you!_

And then, suddenly, a little giggle burst through her lips, as though she couldn't help it, and Draco was startled. She grinned devilishly at him, and then picked him up.

"Perhaps Hermione was right about you," she said in a casual, carefree voice, "you do seem to resemble someone...someone I know rather well."

Why was she speaking so strangely? Could she...could she perhaps..._know?_ Had she finally realized? Draco's heart stopped in hope.

"Into the tub you go," she sang, and his hopes plummeted. She wouldn't _dare_ continue to do this to him if she knew who he was!

But his thoughts were interrupting by the tub – the baby blue tub, now full of water, that was looming closer and closer to him as she carefully lowered him down...down...down...into the tub.

Draco yowled in shock, his every nerve jolting with surprise. He was in the tub now, the water came up to his neck, and he had _never – NEVER – _never been in water this cold!

He wriggled and kicked and scratched, but the hand that kept him in the tub, kept him there firmly, didn't move an inch – and Ginny was seemingly unperturbed by his attempts to free himself.

Her hair tumbled down over her shoulder, glossy red, and he wanted to claw it out of her scalp. Her face was bright with a big, happy smile, her lips rosy red, and he wanted to claw that, too. Her eyes sparkled, a glimmering amber – was that a _knowing_ sparkle? No, Draco decided, still shivering violently in the water. She wouldn't _dare._

"Like the water, darling?" she cooed. "Does it feel nice and cool, my sweet?"

Never in his life had he bathed in water of such low temperature! No one in his family would have considered – DARED – to leave Draco's Malfoy's bath water unheated. He had always, _always,_ had it warmed and steamy, so when he lowered himself into the bath, he would sigh in comfort...He'd always preferred his water a little hotter than most people – he liked the jolt of heat.

And now...and now THIS.

How dare Ginny Weasley do such a thing? How dare she make him, Draco Lucius Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin and Son of Briber of Ministry, bathe in cold water?!

She'd by now picked up a little pink sponge, and was soaking it in water. Slowly she soaped him, the sponge running up and down his little, cold body, and he was mad, and miserable as hell. There was a moment when she ducked his face under the water, and he spat and choked.

"Are you done, Ginny?" a voice called from outside the bathroom. "It's about time I –"

"Almost done, Hermione!" Ginny responded hurriedly, rubbing the last of soap off his body. "Almost done!"

She unraveled the towel, and slowly picked him up from the tub. He'd thought the moment he got out of the tub would be the happiest moment of his life – but who had known that the very _air_ was so cold, that it could prick you like a thousand needles of coldness?

Still shivering, he drew closer to her warm body...He might as well enjoy the benefits, even as a cat. When he was human – then he could show her. Then he would _punish_ her.

Granger was waiting, sitting on the bed, and when she saw him, wrapped in a fluffy white towel, white fur lank and wet, grey eyes still large with shock, her mouth dropped open.

"Seriously, Ginny?" said Hermione in wonder. "I can't believe you actually did this."

"I couldn't let it pass," Ginny giggled, holding him tighter. "It was an unbelievable opportunity, to bathe this cute, sweet, adorable little kitty."

Granger smiled tentatively, her eyes still on him. "Okay, can I have –"

"No, no!" Ginny interrupted quickly. "Just one second, let me dry him, the cutie pie." She threw a warning glance at Granger that Draco couldn't understand.

_Dry me,_ he thought through chattering teeth, _what a wonderful idea. I can't believe you thought of it all by yourself, Weasley._

She set him down on the bed...and then put her hand into the pocket of her robes, drawing out a wand –

Draco acted so fast, he could have congratulated himself a thousand times; with a loud screech he leapt up from the bed, an in mid air clamped his jaw on the wand. In surprise, she released her fingers around it, and Draco landed on all four feet, panting. He streaked under the bed, where they couldn't reach him, and then, still freezing and dripping water everywhere, put every pore of his being into being transformed back into a human.

"He got my wand!" he heard Ginny gasp, but he shut his eyes, still concentrating.

_Human...please...human...please...._please...._HUMAN...._

And then finally – _FINALLY – _he felt himself grow larger, the fur disappear, as did the desire for mice and cat food, until...until the space under Ginny's bed was simply not enough for a well grown, well-built young man like himself.

He quickly clambered out, delirious with joy at being back to himself, and turned around to give that Weasley bint exactly what she deserved for treating him in such an unbecoming manner. He was still sopping wet, not quite so cold, but his robes dripped water everywhere.

The air was pierced by a startled chuckle, and then, a long, loud, tinkling peal of laughter from the redhead. Draco stared at her in surprise, as Ginny laughed and laughed and laughed, collapsing on the bed, tears flowing down her face, which was flushed bright red.

"Merlin..." she gasped, and Hermione cracked another smile.

"Okay, I'm going..." Hermione mumbled. "And um, you've got to meet Professor Snape at the staff room," she said quickly to Draco, giving him a hurried, wary glance, before hastily exiting the dorm. But Draco was still gaping furiously at Ginny, who was still laughing her head off.

"The way you looked when I put soap on you!" Ginny cried, going into another bout of tinkling peals of mirth. Draco was, by now, regaining composure.

After all she had done – she had obviously known, all along – she actually had the bloody _nerve_ to laugh at him!

"There's nothing quite so funny," he spat at her. "I can't _believ_e you knew who I was, and still behaved in such a _ridiculous_ way!" He quickly dried himself with the mad redhead's wand, and then cast it away contemptuously.

Ginny grinned a watery grin at him, and wiped her face of her tears of mirth. "It was priceless," she said simply. Another burst of laughter trickled out of her. "Oh, Merlin, was it priceless."

And then she smirked at him. "Wait till this gets out...Draco Malfoy, the famous kitten! To think I actually gave you bath, and threatened to put ribbons on you!" She snickered. "I wish Rita Skeeter were here right now."

"When did you know?" demanded Draco, eyes piercing, in a tight, controlled voice. "When did you realize?"

"Remember when Hermione called me out of the bathroom? Then, my dear kitty-cat, then."

In spite of himself, Draco's lips cracked into a small smirk at the thought of what she'd done and said. _"Like the water, my sweet?"_ indeed. "You are so Slytherin," he told her, in what was a bit of awe.

But she was laughing again now. "Draco Malfoy doesn't like cold water!"

He glared one more time at her, pewter-colored eyes flashing, and then changed tact with breakneck speed. She would match him if he was angry with her...she was a regular spitfire, and arguing with her when she was so clearly at an advantage was no use to him whatsoever.

But if he tried quite a different tactic, victory to his side was sure. His eyes followed the glossy strands of her coppery hair as they splayed over her shoulder, a tendril snaking across her slender, creamy neck...

He ran a casual hand through his hair, and then crossed his hands across his chest. A little smirk curved his lips, and he had the pleasure of seeing Ginny's grin fall slightly at the sudden change of his expression. And then he said, in a soft, silky voice, "Oh, Weasley. You really, really enjoyed it...didn't you?"

"Of course I did! It's my revenge, isn't it, for all those times you were an absolute _wanker _to m–"

His smirk turned more pronounced. With all her boldness and nerve, this ravishing redhead, she really didn't get it. He laughed, a soft, mocking chuckle.

She paused, looking at him in surprise. This was a change. And then, she felt the blush creeping up her skin, when she noticed something she hadn't before, in her laughing bout.

With his silvery hair mussed around his pale, finely modeled face, his lips curved into that smirk, his eyes shining a striking mercurian grey; standing there like that in his black robes, arms crossed over his chest, Draco Malfoy was...gorgeous. She'd always known it. She'd always tried to deny it. But, quite simply put – the boy was _hot._

And now, as he laughed at her, she could tell that he knew it too – he knew the effect he had on her right now, this moment, so suddenly.

She had to continue, pretend she'd noticed nothing. "Absolute w-wanker to me," she finished lamely.

He shook his head, still smirking. And then, he took a slow, sure step towards her. "You don't get it," he said sweetly. "But I bet you enjoyed it, even if I wasn't human...even if I was a _cat..." _His smirk faded, but his eyes were still sparkling with humor. "Tell me, Weasley. How many times have you imagined it?"

Ginny shook her hair out of her eyes fiercely. "Imagined what, ferret? Oh, sorry, _kitty?_"

Draco batted not an eyelash. "Imagined touching me," said he softly. "I know how kinky you are, Weaslette. And you touched me...touched every corner of me, in that bathroom of yours." He slowly wet his lips, still looking intently at her, and Ginny flinched, her face turning even redder as he sauntered closer to her. "I'm _sure_ that occurred to you only now, right?"

"Yes," lied Ginny stoutly, inwardly cursing herself for blushing so brilliantly. "Because I'm not one of your mindless fangirls, Malfoy, and I don't give a damn about you." How very unique of her. She felt like kicking herself.

Draco ignored her. "How many times you must have wished..." he mused in the same soft voice, the smirking slowly reappearing on his face, "how many times you must have wished that you could have me human, and do the same things you did to me in that bathroom."

With one long, pale finger, his eyes piercing her with their intensity, he touched her cheek, which promptly turned scarlet under his touch. Her eyes stared up at him, half-horrified, half-excited, their amber depths shining, and Ginny couldn't say a word. Draco fingered one shiny strand of red hair, twirling it around his finger, the tip of which was a quarter of an inch shy of her lips.

Ginny then mustered all of her will-power – this was what being a true Gryff meant, she told herself fiercely – and pulled away by a footstep, still glaring into his face.

"So what if I did?" she said harshly. "You're gorgeous, aren't you? It's a perfectly reasonable thing to do!"

Draco smirked again, but his eyes turned dark, swirling grey, like wisps of clouds beginning to drizzle. He took another step closer to her, closing all the distance she'd brought back between them.

"My point exactly, Weasley," he whispered, "so why bother to protest?" And then he took her face into his hands, and crushed his lips to hers. She groaned – first in protest, trying vainly to push him away – but then the groan turned to one of contentment, one of passion, as she felt his tongue graze her lips, and then enter them, explore them fully, as if they were all his, and his alone; As if he had every right to taste every inch of her – and oh, Ginny gave him that right with no semblance of complaint.

_Yes,_ Draco thought smugly, before all other thoughts were wiped out by the feel of her. _Now I'm showing her how...how sweet I can be._

* * *

Hermione ran, clambering out of the Common Room, and gasped the moment she was out, "Professor Snape!"

Snape, who had being enjoying a minute of peace after banishing Goyle, looked up at the sound of her voice. If only the circumstances had been like the ones he'd imagined...

"Miss Granger?" he said crisply as she strode over to him. "Where is Mr. Malfoy?"

"Malfoy...somehow managed to turn himself back," said Hermione breathlessly, looking into Snape's glittering black eyes with something like wonder. "He probably didn't even know the spell, but he caught Ginny's wand and turned back human!"

Snape fell into the familiar pattern – the one of nerdy conversation – with eagerness that he hid only too well. He looked intently at her. "It is quite unusual, and yet possible, for the wand to relate to the holder's thoughts, especially when they are thought with quite a lot of desperation. And it would have required the wand's owner – Miss Weasley, in this case – to also have had some subconscious desire that echoed Draco's. Still, Draco must have been quite desperate. It takes a quite a lot of mental power."

Hermione thought back to the fluffy white towel. "Yes, quite desperate," she agreed. She was momentarily curious on why Ginny would have wanted to turn Malfoy back human, but then continued hurriedly, unnerved by the Potions professor's gaze, "I've heard it's possible, but I never assumed he could do it with someone else's wand, and as a...kitten..." she trailed off, gazing into the Potions Professor's sable eyes. She wished the Fat Lady would stop grumbling, and flicked a Silencing Charm at her behind her back.

Snape surveyed her quietly, and then, took a small, graceful step towards her. "I've just been looking through your homework, Miss Granger..."

Hermione moved closer to him, reciprocating, her face flushing prettily. "Yes...?"

Snape's eyes were intense, shining like..._Like fresh ink, _Hermione thought in awe.

"And..."

"Yes, Professor?" breathed Hermione, every nerve of her tensed for his next words.

Snape held his breath. "And I was very pleased." His eyes drifted from hers, down to her lips. "I was very pleased indeed." His heart was pounding, for those lips had to be a lot softer than parchment...

But before what more pleased the two of them in that empty hallway could be seen, the curtain falls on the intelligent two, and we must check the status of the other people who have interested us during the course of this unusual day – though it has to be admitted that Hermione must've done something quite unusual in that parchment of her homework.

Hallways away, a certain temperamental redhead broke away from the lips of a white-blond Slytherin who was so gorgeous he ought to be jailed, and the said Slytherin murmured softly that cats and weasels got along better than he would've thought.

And more hallways away, a certain stocky, brainless person named Goyle was striding towards the Great Hall for tea, looking forward to hot scones and buttered crumpets.

* * *

**A/N: **Yay, so that's it! Please don't forget to review! And also check out THE DG FORUM.


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